Harry Potter and the War of Independence
by Cornwall Writes
Summary: Harry Potter reimagined in the world of Hamilton. The pairings are just who is played by whom.


"Excuse me, are you… Are you Neville Longbottom?"

He folded his arms as he assessed the younger man who approached his table. "I might be, who are you?"

A smile flitted across the newcomer's face. "I'm Harry Potter, nice to meet you. I've been looking for you."

Longbottom lifted his eyebrows slightly. "Should I be worried?"

Potter laughed quietly. "I heard your name at Hogwarts, sir, where I was hoping to expedite my studies but I, well, had a disagreement with one of the staff."

"You're the one who punched the bursar, Flitwick?" Longbottom's eyebrows raised further, and he gestured for Potter to take the seat opposite him. "Why?"

"I wanted to do what you did." Potter sat down and ordered a seven-word coffee from the server who came scuttling over. "Graduate as soon as possible so I could join the revolution, fight for my country. He looked at me like I was stupid but I'm _not_ stupid." He shrugged as though punching was a legitimate response, but Longbottom could see the anger still in his eyes. "Anyway, how'd you do it?"

"Do what?" Longbottom sipped his tea, amused by the hyper man in front of him who seemed to never sit still. Amused, and a little exasperated.

"How'd you graduate so fast?" Potter leaned forward, eyes gleaming, ready for knowledge.

"It was my parents, actually. I'm a legacy. In their wills-"

"You're an orphan!" Potter interrupted, flinging himself backwards so quickly his chair lifted at the front. "I'm an orphan. Merlin, I wish," running his hand through his hair, he paused for a second. "I wish there was a war, a proper battle in our revolution, something for us to prove that we're worth more than the last wishes of our parents. That we're our own people, and we're more than the enemy bargained for!" His hand was on his belt, grasping for a sword as though to fight now.

"Did you order decaff? No? Let me get you one." Longbottom stood, walking to the counter to change Potter's order. He wanted to get away for a moment anyway, and calm down. He'd known Potter for less than five minutes and the man already nearly had him screaming for the revolution.

"That's very kind of you," Potter said when Longbottom brought the drink back. They both drank for a moment, a quiet booth in the full inn.

"May I offer you a small piece of advice?" He nodded, so Longbottom continued. "Talk less. Smile more. Never let strangers know which side you support."

Potter scoffed. "You can't be serious! Hide my opinion?"

"You want to get ahead?"

"Yes."

Longbottom leaned forward. "Fools who run their mouths oft wind up dead."

"Everyone can relax, I'm here now!" The door was flung open and in staggered three people Longbottom recognised from around town. He glanced at Potter and saw the other man staring, wide-eyed, at the revellers, who had draped themselves across chairs and tables.

"A prime example…" he murmured into his coffee.

"I'm Ron Weasley, and this inn is the best inn in all of our fair land! Do you sell Sam Adams, darling, because I'm parched?" He slid an arm around the waist of a serving girl, who laughed and danced away from him. He shrugged and stood on a chair, holding his hand up and brandishing a stick in the other. "Those Redcoats are afraid of my skill with the sword. I will slice and dice them into tiny pieces." He waved the stick to match his words, fighting off imaginary soldiers.

One of his compatriots smirked. "Sure, Weasley." She stood and grinned at the same waitress Weasley had accosted. "Can I trouble you for your name, kind maiden?"

"My name is Lavender, though it'll be Miss Brown to you." The waitress laughed again as her admirer clasped their hands together.

"Miss Brown, you wound me! Je m'appelle Granger, the gentlewoman in this ragtag bunch, and I'll happily be your Lancelot." She winked at Lavender, who stepped around her. Granger whirled, holding Lavender's hand and pulling her close. "I came from afar to help this cause but I'd much rather assist you, Miss Brown." A slow wink. "In any way." She let Lavender go then, turning to glance at the people frowning in the corner. "And you can tell your king casse-toi!"

The final member of the trio sat at a table chuckling at his friends. He caught the eye of Lavender and bowed as much as he could while sitting. "I'm Seamus Finnegan, Miss Brown, a frequent patron of this fine establishment." Once she'd disappeared into the back, he winked at the room. "I'd like to be a frequent patron of her! At least she doesn't wear 4 layers of corsets like most girls."

"Wow…" Weasley leaned on Granger as Lavender came back out and heard Finnegan.

He had the grace to look ashamed when she slammed a beer down in front of him, her anger making the liquid slosh onto the table. "Thank you, Miss Brown. To the revolution!" The trio drained their newly acquired drinks, cheering each other on.

Weasley was the first to notice the two gentlemen in the corner. "Well, well, well, if it isn't our very own prodigy, here in the flesh."

"Neville Longbottom! Where have you been?" Granger sat down with her arms on the back of a chair, tipping it forwards.

"Any tips for us lowly graduates?" Finnegan sat beside Potter, barely glancing at him.

Longbottom snorted. "Good luck with anything with these two around." He gestured to Weasley and Granger. "You can antagonise the king and his men all you like, it's not going to end well."

"Why don't you take a stand with us, Longbottom? The revolution is almost upon us." Weasley leaned forwards, placing his hands on the table.

"If you stand for nothing, what will you fall for, Longbottom?" Potter spoke quietly for the first time, but the other men fell silent.

"Who are you?" Granger and Finnegan chorused.

Weasley stood up slightly to look down at Potter. "Who are you, kid? What are you going to do?"


End file.
